


Golden

by Zelenina



Series: Borderlines [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Album: Fine Line (Harry Styles), First Time, M/M, Song: Golden (Harry Styles), lol just sayin, they breathe each other in a LOT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26500447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelenina/pseuds/Zelenina
Summary: Louis is hot. Not hothot, but very warm. Sweating. It's still dark and very quiet, must be just few hours before dawn. He stills. Remembers. And then turns around becausethis can't be his life. But there are soft curls poking from his duvet a feet away from his face. If he could control the white noise in his ears, he could probably even hear Harry breathe. He knows he won't fall asleep again, but can't seem to move away, his eyes away.You creep. Don't be pathetic as the last time.They talked. They slept. And now they slept together.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: Borderlines [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592929
Kudos: 40





	Golden

**Author's Note:**

> Third part of the series. This starts right when the second part ended.
> 
> Some deserved smut with feels, basically. Have at it *hides behind the corner*

Louis is hot. Not hot _hot_ , but very warm. Sweating. It's still dark and very quiet, must be just few hours before dawn. He stills. Remembers. And then turns around because _this can't be his life_. But there are soft curls poking from his duvet a feet away from his face. If he could control the white noise in his ears, he could probably even hear Harry breathe. He knows he won't fall asleep again, but can't seem to move away, his eyes away. _You creep. Don't be pathetic as the last time_.

He quietly gets out of the bed, careful not to disturb Harry, and walks into the attached bathroom. He manages to grab some old t-shirt from a chair he passes and puts it on while walking in the dark. He doesn’t stop to think about why he feels the need to cover himself in his own bedroom.

He closes the door with little to no noise and goes to relieve his bladder. And after washing his hands he just stands there, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Now what. He wants to jump and laugh, scream and get drunk, call his friends and call his sisters. Call his mum. As everything with Harry, it's too much. How can this all be real? Twenty four hours ago he would never even thought… that it would be possible. Is it? Possible? Can it? _Really?_ He even considers running away for a bit, but he knows he would never. He splashes his face with water and then brushes his teeth. Well, they went to sleep without doing it and Louis won't be opposed to some morning kisses in a few hours, so.

He creeps back into the room and just as he's slipping under the duvet, he hears a mumbled: “Lou? What's– Where did you go?”

“Sorry, had to piss, H. Go back to sleep,” he whispers and snuggles closer to the moving lump of blankets. He is terrified, yet knows that is an unfounded fear. Old habits die hard, it seems. If nothing else, his doubts are quieted when a grabby hand finds its way to his waist and just pulls him closer.

“Oh,” is all he mutters. Harry is so warm. And apparently has no reservations of where to put his limbs, when a leg of his envelops Louis' thigh. He is so much taller when they last did this. That thigh that rests on him now is so much more muscular. Fuck. He tries to put some vital distance between their bodies because Harry is _asleep_. Louis can't help but feel like that eighteen year-old creep that would have woken up in Harry's arms in the X Factor house – hard and aching. The boy who had to hide his shame towards a lovely _sixteen year-old_. It was his lowest point, to get so attached to a boy who didn’t like him that way. He knows his feelings are reciprocated now but he didn’t know _then_. That horrible feeling of shame and confusion is real still. And Louis wants to cry. This should be the happiest moment of his life and _it is_. But.

“Lou? What’s going on? You’re shaking.” Harry's hand travels from his waist (stops for a second on the t-shirt that made an appearance since the last time he had Louis near him) to his neck and then to his cheek. His voice is rough with sleep.

Louis just grabs him and presses his face into his neck, his beginnings of hard-on long forgotten. Just breathes in the very light traces of some fruit shampoo, maybe even some sort of cologne he didn’t notice in the evening, some of the beer they had, and sweat. Such a simple, boyish aroma and he feels drunk on it. As he continues to inhale deeply, Harry brings both of his hands to Louis' back and tries to write on it something slowly with the tips of his fingers. Louis’ heart misses a beat. “Seriously? I love you? You can be more original, you know.”

“Loouuuis!” Harry whines and tries to take his hand back and scoot away a bit. Louis just bites his collarbone. Doesn’t pull away for a smallest bit. The chest under him shivers.

“I didn’t say you could stop.” The hand carefully returns. They breathe each other in for a few moments. Louis almost falls asleep and then a shy;

“Lou? Are you all right? What happened?”

He could ignore it. But this is Harry. And this time, when they are both somewhere between dream land and the harsh reality, it’s the ideal time. Like something in a movie. A moment stopped in time. It feels like it’s not really _real_.

“I love you, you know.” He can feel Harry’s deep exhale. Louis turns slightly to look into his eyes, the moonlight strong just enough to see the eyes he longed for for so long. It’s not enough. He pulls himself to an elbow and stares down at the boy. _His_ boy after tonight, hopefully. “I really. Really. Really. Love. You.” He punctuates every word with a soft kiss to his cheekbones, nose, jaw, even eyebrows. Harry is looking up at him while caressing his sides softly. Louis can’t stand the stare and talks to his lips now. “I just want you to know how much-“ his voice breaks and before he can be truly mortified, Harry grabs his face and Louis has to look into those eyes again and they are watery, “What-?” and then he’s kissed and it’s nothing like kissing someone you _like_ , but it’s a wave, a thunder, an earthquake and one split second later he is on his back and Harry is on him and he _must_ understand because he’s chanting “It’s real, it’s real, it’s real,” between kisses and then Louis can’t think of anything else, because he is _known_.

After few minutes, or maybe hours? of simply enjoying the warmth of each other, hands on hips and chests, Louis feels a hand on his belly, one that is definitely under his shirt. The warmth of it makes his brain circuit and he feels like drowning. He gasps, he has to catch a breath, but there is only Harry’s mouth on his, and if this is the only source he has to breathe from to survive, he will gladly take it.

Harry is struggling too, he moves his head to Louis’ neck and if he were feeling any more in his senses, he would stop to think that Harry is breathing _him_ in, like he _has_ to. Like there is no other option than to get every single molecule of Louis scent into his body while caressing his lower chest, his belly, the smallest pouch he has under his bellybutton.

Louis would feel self-conscious but then Harry moves away for a second just to grab Louis shirt, stops for a second with a quiet “Is this ok?” and Louis doesn’t respond but removes the shirt himself. Then Harry is on him again and he lays his full body weight on him and before Louis’ brain can fully catch on all the places their bodies are touching, Harry has his face in his armpit and is _breathing in_ like a drowning man that has finally broke the water surface. Time stops. Louis is confused but his body is not - his hands that were caressing Harry’s sides grab the flesh in them so hard he’s sure there will be bruises later. The hand that Harry isn’t using on propping himself lands on Louis’ abdomen again and he never understood why some people find this part of his body arousing but it apparently _is_. He must have closed his eyes at some point because the warmth of the body above him moves slightly away, only the stroking on his belly remains. He opens his eyes. The moonlight makes Harry’s face light up in soft blue hues, deepens his cheekbones and makes his eyes stand out so much more. Louis exhales. Harry must see in his face what he was waiting for because he closes the distance again and unapologetically opens Louis lips with his own and attacks him with his tongue. He starts fucking Louis’ mouth. There is no other word for it because he thrusts and thrusts his tongue in a sensual rhythm, slow and deep. Louis can feel spit on his chin and the absolute filthiness of not knowing if it’s his or Harry’s, or _mix of them both_ , sends him spiralling. He can only take it and take it, one strong thrust after another. Surely, those muted _ah ah ah_ noises can’t be _him_.

And then Harry lowers his body even more fully on Louis (if that is even possible, but apparently it _is_ ) and starts moving in the same rhythm as his tongue and. This is how Louis dies. RIP him. Harry’s pelvis is on Louis’ and he slightly changes the angle and. Louis comes. He doesn’t know how or what exactly did it but he is flying and clutching to the body above him.

He whites out for a moment but the embarrassment gets him out of it quickly. He manages to catch the utter bewilderment on Harry’s face as he looks down their bodies and then to Louis’ eyes. And before Louis can do anything sensible, like apologize or _anything at all_ , because the aftershocks of it still make him shiver all over, and _the weight of Harry on him_ , Harry is edging his left arm under Louis back, putting his hand on Louis neck from behind and stilling him in place. They’re looking at each other, so Louis doesn’t see but he can feel the tugging motion catching on his belly. Harry gasps a quiet “Lou” and crushes their lips together and then he shakes and shakes and Louis can only hold him through it. Harry stills after a moment, and fully crashes on Louis. There might or might not be some caressing of the belly filthy with _two loads of come on it._ Louis decides not to think about it. He has his sanity to protect.

“Oi, you heavy loaf,” Louis says after their breathing have evened out and even he can hear the fond in his voice. He kisses Harry’s temple. “I can’t breathe.” Another kiss to the sweaty curls.

“Brgh,” he gets a reply but then Harry moves a bit. Just a bit. Still clutches on with his whole _self_ onto Louis, legs and arms, all of it. Just slides slightly to the side but clutches tightly. Or maybe it’s mutual and half of the limbs are Louis’ clutching on Harry’s, but who’s watching.

They rest their heads near each other on the same pillow, noses touching. Louis has his eyes closed but can feel the stare on his face. Blinks his eyes open. How can he ever feel adequate? Harry’s face is hit with the first soft daybreak traces of light and he is radiant. Louis brushes some runaway curls from his forehead and even though he doesn’t want to disturb the tranquillity of the moment, there’s no way he could keep the words “You’re so beautiful,” to himself, when that is something he needed to say for so long.

Harry blushes and turns his face into the pillow and with that even into Louis – then turns back and smiles. There is that sixteen-year old that was the best and worst part of Louis’ young life. They’re both taking each other in, Louis can tell. He pokes the dimple. Harry kisses him, Louis’ fingertips still on his cheek. Their kisses start innocently enough, but Louis can feel wondering hands on him soon thereafter.

He pulls slightly away. “Haz?” he squeeks when a wandering hand grabs his bum cheek. Harry tucks his face in his neck again and replies, “’M sorry but your bum! I haven’t a chance yet to-“ and grips Louis arse with both hands. Louis thinks Harry sounds almost accusatory when he huffs, and says into his neck “Let me just-“ and then he just palms Louis’ bum, pays special attention to the part where his bum ends and legs begin. His exploratory fingers edge to the hems of Louis briefs. Yeah, those fingers like _especially_ the dent under the butt cheeks. They both lay on their sides but Harry’s ministrations pull Louis more onto Harry’s chest, not that he would complain.

He’s finally sleepy, so it takes him a few moments but when he realises, he is wide awake again. “Harold!” Harry is unabashedly looking at him, his fingers continue in their exploratory quest to the inner thighs, _very high up_ , thank you very much. It’s apparent how much he enjoys this. If not for his smile, the raging hard-on he’s sporting would be a great indication too. But he looks satisfied as it is, happy just caressing Louis thighs. “How are you even able to- so soon after.” Harry just smiles. “I love you,” like that explains everything. Maybe in Harry’s world it does.

Louis sighs, oh, what he has to suffer now. “I am old and wrinkly. I need shower and a sleep.”

“Sure,” is the smiley reply. “Though, when you think ’bout it, we both came so quickly… Like a pair of teenagers.” Louis has to establish his superiority again, this is preposterous! But then Harry’s bruised lips are on his again and he thinks, _Eh, maybe another day_. It’s hard to act unaffected when Harry’s long fingers curl around his also hard prick. Choices.


End file.
